Night before last, I dreamt that I had joined the Sons of Anarchy. Not as one of their “ol’ ladies”, but as a full-fledged member complete with my own awesome leather vest. I didn’t have a motorcycle, though. Apparently even my dream-self is wary of anything that will allow you to accelerate faster than a cheetah without wrapping you in protective metal. I drove a beat-up little green truck. But the interior was black leather, which I guess made it cool enough for the SoA. Anyway, my new gang was about to get into something very illegal to do with guns or drugs or human trafficking. It’s not that I can’t recall the dream, it’s that the dream was unclear as to the nature of this big scary illegal deal. Regardless, it frightened me enough that I went to the cops. They tried to get me to go undercover and rat on the gang, which I knew would get me very dead, very quickly. Still, I went along with it like a big dummy. Then Ron Perlman (the actor, not the character he plays in the show who is the leader of this gang, but the actual actor) figured out that I was a rat and OMG was I in trouble. Luckily, I woke up before they could do anything about it. Guess I showed them!

Last night, I dreamed that I went to a local radio station and had one of the morning radio hosts give me a breast exam. This guy is in no way a medical professional, which I knew in the dream. But it wasn’t sexual at all. It was just hey, I need a breast exam. I should totally get one of these guys to do it. Because it was free? I dunno. But afterwards, as I was putting my shirt back on, I heard him on the radio talking about how fantastic my rack is. I woke up smiling.